Of Crewnecks and Compliments
by A Murmured Silhouette
Summary: After the fortieth, “Eat dung, Malfoy!” of the week, Draco realized his plan to subtly woo Potter by way of clothing and compliments was clearly not working, and decided to take a different approach. PG-13 for brief language.


**Of Crewnecks and Compliments**

Draco Malfoy was atypical of many sixteen-year-old boys: he noticed clothes. He had always responded very well to pleasing aesthetics in clothing such as lush-looking fabrics, vibrant, intense colors, garments perfectly tailored to the wearer's body, and clean, elegant lines accentuating their best features.

He learned early on not to openly share this passion with anyone, especially with other boys. For example, one morning he accidentally remarked on how sexy the long, sloping line of Potter's crewneck was against his neck and Goyle, who under normal circumstances couldn't string two letters together to form a word, glared at him and growled, "Flaming poof."

Notably, that was the last time Goyle spoke in Draco's presence—possibly at all.

Pansy knew about Draco's odd love for _vêtements_, but she was convinced that was what had made him such a good boyfriend. It was totally for selfish purposes that she kept trying to win him back; that belted shell dress he'd bought her for her sixteenth birthday that made her skinny, hipless body look curvy and goddess-like had secured him a permanent residence on her personal Most Wanted list.

It should be noted now that Pansy actually gave up on Draco approximately four months ago. However daft she may be, she is a woman, and women know what it means when a guy comments on the increasingly lovely appearance of a _boy _he's not even supposed to _like_ more than he even so much as glances in said woman's general direction. Women also know what it means when men speak of a desire to buy said increasingly lovely boy expensive presents "just because."

If there was one person dafter than Pansy, though, it was the aforementioned Increasingly Lovely Boy, who figured that every time Draco complimented his outfit (which was usually wrinkled, mismatched, and ill-fitting), it was really an insult in disguise.

After the fortieth, "Eat dung, Malfoy!" of the week, Draco realized his plan to subtly woo Potter by way of clothing and compliments was clearly not working, and decided to take a different approach. Taking into account Potter's supreme intellectual thickness, he decided the direct approach was probably the best way to handle it.

So the next day, he threw on his favorite green cashmere sweater for an extra confidence-boost (another thing he quickly discovered was NOT something one boy talks about with other boys), he caught up with Potter and Weasley heading back up to the castle from the greenhouses.

"Oi, Potter!" he called. "May I have a word with you?"

Potter blushed scarlet at the unexpected attention from Draco, which made Draco blush as well until he realized Weasley was still standing there with his arms crossed like some big, stupid security troll.

"Do you _mind,_ Weasley?"

"Sod off," he said, but with a last pointed look at Harry, he left anyway.

Draco turned to Harry, an elegant eyebrow arched. "Overprotective boyfriend, eh Potter?"

"Boyfriend?" Harry said uncomfortably. "Don't be stupid, Malfoy."

Draco sighed exasperatedly. "Whatever you say. Anyway, Potter, all I've done this week is compliment you and you keep basically telling me to fuck off. I don't get it, what am I doing wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Don't be daft, Potter," he snapped. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about." When Harry didn't change his bewildered expression, which Draco was starting to think was permanent he added pointedly, "_I like your _shirt_, Potter._ It makes your body look very, um, well-taken-care-of…MERLIN, Potter, how stupid ARE you?"

Potter's eyes widened suddenly in dawning comprehension. "Oh," he said slowly. "So…you weren't insulting me after all."

"No," Draco said. "I wasn't insulting you."

It was at that moment that Potter grabbed Draco by his perfectly pressed shirt collar and kissed him hard on the mouth.

When he pulled away, all Draco could do was stare at him. He was dizzy and lightheaded and felt very much like yelling at someone. He opened his mouth, but Potter spoke first.

"I guess I like your shirt, too."


End file.
